David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published Feb. 7, 2006

Let's toss The Trumper down the stairs

All things considered, I'd say I'm fairly patient with people. Inanimate objects are another story. I've been known to heave a perfectly good smoke detector down a flight of stairs because its anchor screws wouldn't line up with the holes I drilled in the ceiling. Inanimate objects and I have a reciprocal relationship -- I hate them, and they hate me. Fine! Who needs a smoke detector in the kitchen anyway?! Stupid screws!

I'm much better with people. I enjoy making a connection with them, whether it be an emotional connection, a work-related connection or even just a temporary conversational connection. Sometimes it's easy. Some folks are very receptive. Sometimes it's a challenge, and sometimes the result doesn't justify the effort, but it's all part of interacting with people. Besides, most of them are too big to heave down a flight of stairs.

I can forgive a lot of sins, but one thing that really irks me more than a misaligned ceiling screw is when some people trump everyone in the room. I know you've seen them. You might even be one of them. (If you are, you and I probably don't hang out together much.)
Here's an example. You're at a party, let's say a Super Bowl party a couple of days ago. You're chatting away about this and that - about how crispy chicken wings are neater to eat than saucy chicken wings or maybe about how Bill Cowher's jaw looks as though it's ready to declare civil war and secede from the rest of his head. In every group of people, there's always at least one Trumper who won't listen. He has to talk. And talk. And talk. And talk.

For him, every story is like a hand of blackjack. You tell your story and lay down your cards -- 17: a good story, but The Trumper can't leave it alone. "Oh, that's nothing," he immediately retorts. "Spending 14 hours snowed in at the airport is nothing compared to what I went through. I was once stuck in the airport for 29 hours. Yeah, 14 hours is nothing. That's not even half as long as I was there."

Instead of just enjoying someone else's story and perhaps -- gasp! -- empathizing with that person, The Trumper must tell everyone within earshot that his 19 beats your measly 17. As long as no one else at the party is holding an ace and a face, he wins. Rah, rah.

I suspect The Trumper thinks that listening is too passive. Listening may seem passive, but it actually takes considerable effort. A good listener does more than just nod quietly. A good listener digests information, formulates ideas and then presents those ideas to the other person in a two-way dialogue. If done correctly, it creates a little something that I call an "interesting conversation." You may have heard of it. While rare, "interesting conversations" do exist. I've been involved in quite a few over the years.

The reason an "interesting conversation" is so rare is because it requires both parties to shut their traps and listen. That's why The Trumper is incapable of participating in an "interesting conversation." During the few moments he stops yapping, he's not listening to other people. He may hear what they're saying, but he's not listening. He pauses and hears just enough so that he can formulate his next blackjack hand.

"If you think this house is nice, you should see mine," The Trumper fires back while Buffalo wing sauce drips from his chin. "I've got imported hardwood floors, tiled ceilings, a stuffed spotted owl in my living room and a 320-inch plasma TV that I picked up at Bill Gates' garage sale."

Maybe he has all those and maybe he doesn't. Who even cares? Some people call The Trumper a "Type A Personality." The term I use is a little less scientific but, I think, much more descriptive. The Trumper is a jerk.

I've noticed that a lot of politicians are Trumpers. Not all of them are, but many are. They don't seem to listen very well. They may hear the other guy, but The Political Trumper's brain is feverishly planning an attack strategy to poke holes in the contention of his opponent (i.e. any other human). He's a professional Trumper. He's paid to trump. It's his livelihood. If you see The Political Trumper at a party, I recommend you steer clear. You won't get a word in anyway.

It's too bad we can't heave him down the stairs.

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David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@tds.net